


Got a hold of my possessive mind

by phoenix_ascended



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom!Steve, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Jealous Steve Rogers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Steve Rogers, Rough Sex, Spanking, Sub!Bucky, Threesome - M/M/M, brat!Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25528261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_ascended/pseuds/phoenix_ascended
Summary: After staring at Bucky for a split-second, Sam, of course, completely loses it. Drops his chin to his chest a little, little huffs trying not to let everyone hear him. Bucky’s so pleased with himself he leans over and wraps a metal arm around the dude’s back, buries his other fist in a bicep and squeezes him. He looks over to Steve, all chuffed, “look, aren’t ya proud of me?” right up until he clocks that Steve is staring down at his hands, thumb tapping against the edge of his other palm.Bucky leans forward slightly just to check Steve’s expression for sure and yup, he’s — angry. For a split-second, Bucky’s confused as hell and then he gets it. Oh, lordy. Seriously? Steve’s jealous?Oh boy. If Bucky plays his cards right, this is going to be amazing.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Comments: 31
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HaniTrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaniTrash/gifts), [musette22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musette22/gifts).



> This has been an epic journey. I've read Stucky fic for years and followed musette22 on tumblr. She started posting [the amazing porn gif series](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23690131/chapters/56877292) (seriously, read them if you haven't already but note the NSFW gifs on every chapter) and from that I clicked through to a hanitrash story. 
> 
> Then musette posted a discussion about jealous Chris, I think and then linked back to [this post](https://musette22.tumblr.com/post/190576741315/zqdawn-nessoverjoyed-im-sorry-the-point) where Sebastian tells Mackie a joke and Chris looks like he's going to cry, poor baby. I started chatting with hanitrash about it and well... got inspired. I've written a bunch of RPF but for whatever reason, this one wanted to be an AllCaps fic, and so here we are.
> 
> Go easy on me, it's my first fic in the fandom. Thanks a billion to hanitrash for incredible patience as it took me literally weeks to write this. I really appreciate the cheerleading and the beta read. All remaining errors are my own, of course.
> 
> The title is from Jealousy, by Queen.

Bucky is definitely not paying attention to what Stark is saying at the front of the briefing. He listened for the first five minutes, scanned the documents hovering in mid-air, assessed the risks on the building, and determined the best use of his assets for this mission. Now Stark is just blowing hot air up there, as far as he’s concerned. 

He leans over to Sam, and whispers under his breath. “Tony likes acronyms, right? He should totally call that new weapon ‘activated super-structured ballistic upwards trajectory torpedo’.” 

Mission accomplished. After staring at him for a split-second, Sam, of course, completely loses it. Drops his chin to his chest a little, little huffs trying not to let everyone hear him. Puts his hand up to his mouth as he folds in on himself and shakes his head a little, mutters, ‘little shit’.

Bucky’s done good. Steve said he wanted the pair of them to stop riling each other up and Bucky’s been making an effort. He knows Sam is Steve’s ex, of course, but they’re also colleagues and they have to work it out.

Bucky’s so pleased with himself he leans over and wraps a metal arm around the dude’s back, buries his other fist in a bicep and squeezes him. He snarls a little at the end, just a little grimace so no one accuses him of going soft, and sits back, satisfied. He looks over to Steve, all chuffed, “look, aren’t ya proud of me?” right up until he clocks that Steve is staring down at his hands, thumb tapping against the edge of his other palm. Bucky leans forward slightly just to check Steve’s expression for sure and yup, he’s — angry. For a split-second, Bucky’s confused as hell and then he gets it. Oh, lordy. Seriously? Steve’s _jealous_? Bucky can’t help but sit back a little and smirk, realises that’s just going to make it worse, and hides behind his hand.

Oh boy. If Bucky plays his cards right, this is going to be _amazing_.

* * *

Steve doesn’t actually talk to Bucky for the rest of the afternoon, and Bucky does his best to play up like he’s hurt and confused about it without actually acting like a needy baby, you know, not so’s anybody would notice but Steve.

The second they get into their own space, Steve shoves Bucky up against the wall, cages him in with those arms, just how he likes it. “Did you forget you’re mine, baby?” he growls.

Bucky squirms under it, bats his lashes. “What are you talking about, Steve?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about, Bucky. Making eyes at Sam right under my nose. Touching him.” Steve threads his fingers into Bucky’s hair, makes a fist and pulls his head back. Bucky gasps, feels his dick start to plump up.

“I thought you wanted us to be friends,” says Bucky, all faux-innocence. Sweet mercy, he can _smell_ Steve’s arousal, the possessive musk of his sweat.

“Not. Like. That,” Steve hisses. He kisses Bucky so fiercely it’s more like biting, hands threading around Bucky’s wrists, lifting them up and pinning them against the wall beside his head.

Bucky struggles, half-heartedly, just to feel Steve’s strength, remind himself he really can’t shift Steve easily, not unless he really exerts himself. Even his metal arm feels a little helpless at this angle. Steve pushes back, kicks his legs apart and steps in, presses his whole body against Bucky’s, chest against chest, the long line of him, the heat of him, his hardness pressing against Bucky’s cock. Bucky ruts against him, moans.

“You want that to be Sam, huh?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, Steve. Just you.”

“Bet you’d like that, huh? You want him rubbing himself over you? Would you make such pretty noises for him too?” Steve lets go of Bucky’s flesh wrist, moves his hand to Bucky’s chest, and Bucky knows what’s coming, half-braces for it, half-pushes his chest out, wanting the pain. Steve grips Bucky’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinches hard and twists, and if it weren’t for the careful way he’s soaking up Bucky’s reaction, he’d think it was unfeeling, but it’s not. Bucky whimpers.

“You think Sam knows how to take care of you like I do?” demands Steve.

“No, Steve.” Bucky chest is aching, Steve’s fingers twisting back the other way. He bucks up into Steve’s grip. “Steve, please.”

“Say it.” Steve moves his hand up to Bucky’s neck, presses just a little into his windpipe.

Bucky blinks slow, swallows. “Say what, Steve?” Tries hard to keep the smirk of his face.

“This a game to you, baby?” asks Steve, low, and for a split second, Bucky falters. It _is_ a game, on one hand, but he can also see that Steve’s genuinely jealous. Steve tilts Bucky’s chin up in the crook of his hand, kisses him again, tongue and teeth. “Well?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, it’s not a game.”

“You’re mine, Bucky.”

Bucky nods, “Yours,” he says. That’s familiar, settles him, safe. That’s a call and response they’ve been whispering to each other since before the war.

“Bed. Now. Clothes off. On your knees for me, sweetheart.” There’s still an edge of fierceness in his voice, like he’s holding back. It sends a shudder through Bucky, anticipatory, warm. Steve steps back to give him space and he scrambles to obey. He looks over his shoulder as he goes but Steve isn’t following yet. They make eye contact for a split second and Bucky drops his gaze again, keeps walking.

When he gets to their bedroom, he strips efficiently, folds his clothes neatly, climbs onto the centre of their bed and kneels there, legs slightly apart, his stiff dick curved upwards proudly between them, hands upturned on his thighs and he takes a steadying breath, waiting, like an offering.

By the time Steve walks in, Bucky’s mind is buzzing with thoughts of what’s coming. Steve’s hand running across his shoulder settles him and he leans in to it.

“The things I want to do to you…” whispers Steve, climbing up onto the bed behind Bucky.

“Yeah?” breathes Bucky.

“Wanna mark you. Scares me sometimes,” Steve says, his hand stroking, stroking, down Bucky’s flank, to his hip. 

Bucky groans.

“How much I want you. How feral I get about you.” Steve digs fingers into Bucky’s flesh, hard. Bucky finds himself wishing it would bruise for longer than a day, wants to wear Steve’s marks. He looks over his shoulder to Steve, raising his chin a little.

“Show me,” says Bucky. “I want it.” He can see the moment Steve’s eyes flash with desire, and the next second, there’s a hand in the centre of his back pushing him forward. His hands shoot out beneath him before he can think, and he’s on all fours, ass out, and he feels the rush of air a split second before the bloom of pain and the crack of Steve’s hand across his butt. He draws in a sharp breath, feels the warmth start, and travel from there to his nuts like crackles of heat. He huffs out a breath, relaxes for the next one.

“That what you’re angling for, sweetheart? Want me to teach you a lesson?” Another crack, another bloom of warmth, this time on his other cheek. Bucky hangs his head. What he’s _angling_ for is to get fucked through the mattress, but he’ll take this as a nice warm up. He tosses up between goading Steve with comparisons to Sam or starting to lay on the contrition, unsure which is going to get him the better workover.

“I didn’t —” he starts, but he’s interrupted by another slap, this time at the top of his thigh, and he grunts as the force of it pushes him up the bed a little.

“You weren’t about to tell me you didn’t mean it, surely?” says Steve, far too evenly, and spanks Bucky four, five more times in quick succession. Bucky shakes his head, starting to drift, can’t actually remember what he was going to say.

Steve’s hand strokes over his heated skin, and he wriggles against it.

“Oh, you want more?” asks Steve, and almost before he finishes saying it, his hand falls down onto Bucky’s sensitive flesh again, over and over. Before he’s done, Bucky is flying, endorphin-soaked brain just high as a kite.

When Steve stops, and leans over him to check in, Bucky turns a dopey grin his way and hums. Steve runs nails up his back and tangles fists in his hair, scritches at his nape and he purrs.

“So fucking beautiful,” Steve murmurs. “And all mine.”

He moves away and for a moment, Bucky’s a bit lost, but it’s two seconds before that large, comforting hand is back on his neck and he feels the other hand dip between his warm cheeks, and a slippery finger tease around the soft, furled muscle of his entrance. He spreads his legs, shameless, wanting, his hard dick dripping onto the sheets as he angles his hips up for Steve.

“Still wishin’ this was Sam, Buck?” asks Steve, one finger sliding wetly into him. Bucky shakes his head, his hair falling into his eyes. “You imagining his long fingers sinking into you, slow?” Bucky can’t help but gasp, and all of a sudden, that is the image in his mind. It wasn’t, at all, before, but now —

Steve drags that finger out, presses it back in, and Bucky can feel himself open up, draw it in, and now he’s imagining it’s Sam behind him, and there’s a guilty pang as his ring clenches hard on Steve’s finger. Steve pushes it all the way in, drags it back, and then there’s the dull pressure of two fingers and Bucky breathes in, relaxes, lets Steve in — Steve, not Sam. 

“Steve —” he says, broken.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” The fingers scissor out, stretching. 

His ass is so warm from the spanking, his head is so fuzzy. He can’t think. “Want it.”

“I’m giving it to you, Buck.”

He shakes his head minutely. “More.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t you fret. Gonna fuck you so hard, Bucky,” promises Steve. “The only word you’re gonna remember is my name.”

The hand on the back of his neck tightens, pushes down, and the fingers in him slide out, slow. There’s a moment when he’s empty and he can hear the sound of Steve pouring more slick onto himself, and then he feels the huge blunt pressure of Steve’s cockhead, silky but rigid, opening him, breaching him, splitting him open, the stretch everything, overwhelming almost and exactly what he wanted.

“Steve…” he moans again.

“That’s right, sweetheart. That’s my name, keep usin’ it.” Steve fucks into him, one long stroke that seems to go on forever, all the way in until his hips are flush against Bucky’s warm ass, a slight sting the reminder of how red he must be, of what Steve can see as he pulls back out. Bucky drops his chin to his chest, a tiny flush of shame, that he wants this, that he’s always wanted this, but Steve knows him far too well, spots it immediately and switches the hand on the back of his neck to around the front, big hand over his windpipe, not squeezing but there, thumb and forefinger on either side as Steve lifts his chin up, pulls him up, arches his back.

“Oh no, you don’t, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs. “You’re mine, you’re fucking glorious, and you’re going to take this for me, understand?”

“Yeah, Steve.” Holding himself together.

Steve pulls back out and thrusts in hard, filling him, so big, so deep. They both groan together, and then Steve does tighten his grip around the long column of Bucky’s throat a little, and Bucky gets himself up as high as he can while still supporting himself on his arms, bending back, and just holds on for the ride as Steve pounds into him, crying out as Steve drags over his sweet spot, his mind swimming with sensation as he moans, “Steve, Steve,’ over and over, only barely aware of Steve’s litany of curses behind him.

“You belong to me, mine, gonna fill you up, cover you in my jizz, Buck, no one else is allowed to fucking touch you, fuck, your hole was fucking made for my cock, the way you take it, Buck, gonna come in you so hard, mine, you’re _mine.”_ That last word drawn out on a gasp, as Steve’s cock hardens impossibly inside Bucky and pulses, and Steve is coming and coming, collapses on Bucky’s back, draped around him. Bucky’s skin is buzzing all over, his cock still hard between his legs. For a split second, he imagines it’s Sam again, imagines the difference — slightly shorter torso but longer limbs draped over him — and there’s a shudder of desire. _Fuck._ He genuinely wasn’t interested until Steve started in on it, but now…

Of course, Steve is barely getting started, thanks to the serum. He pulls Bucky up for round two, clocks Bucky’s reaction as he does. “What was that, Bucky? What went through your mind just then?”

And Bucky is achingly hard, half-mad with wanting to come, isn’t sure whether he’s still being a brat or just being honest when he hears the word punched out of him like a confession. “Sam…” he says, “I didn’t mean to…” but Steve’s already growling, pulls out of him, flips him over.

“Fucking you from behind was a bad idea, huh? Need to see my face to remember who you belong to?”

“Steve, I’m sorry…”

“You will be, sweetheart.” And Steve’s pushing his legs up, folds him in half and shoves back into him without warning. He grabs both Bucky’s wrists and pulls his hands over his head, holds him down and fucks him rough and fast, like a jackhammer. His face is like a stormcloud, fierce, and Bucky knows he ought to be worried but his traitorous body is so fucking aroused, being fucked like this, claimed, taken. It’s no time at all before he feels the tightness in his balls and the fire in his belly.

“Ohhhh, fuck, Steve, please, I’m gonna come.”

“No,” Steve orders, curt.

Bucky’s mind blanks. They play all the time with permission but he usually gets it.

“Please. Please, Steve…”

Steve speeds up, the bastard. “You wait for me,” he says. “You come when I say so.”

Bucky clamps down, tries so hard, but Steve is hammering his prostate on every stroke and it’s almost impossible.

“Oh God,” he cries out. “Please, _Steve…”_

“Who do you belong to?” demands Steve.

“You,” says Bucky. “You, only you.”

“Say it.” Eyes flashing.

“I belong to you, Steve. Oh, God, _please…”_

“Now,” says Steve. And then they’re both coming and coming, Bucky’s release spurting hot between them, coating the taut planes of Steve’s abdomen, Steve’s come deep inside Bucky as he pushes in as far as he can.

Steve lets Bucky’s arms go, and he wraps both hands around the side of Bucky’s head, leans down and kisses him, deeply, passionately, roughly at first, and then transitioning to soft, slow, tongue exploring and lips gentle.

Bucky shudders through an aftershock, runs his flesh hand down Steve’s back. Steve pulls back to look at him and Bucky smiles, all dopey in his afterglow.

Steve looks sheepish. “Sorry if I — went too far,” he says, after a moment.

“You kidding?” laughs Bucky. “You know I always loved you possessive like that. If that’s what it’s gonna be like, you can bring Sam into our bed any time you like.”

Steve’s eyes darken and Bucky holds a hand out, mock-defensive, still laughing. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Hmmm,” says Steve, and he pulls out, softening. “Maybe we should talk about that. _After_ we clean up.”

* * *

The next morning, in the shower, Steve thinks about what Bucky said, after, that the whole scene turned him on more than he’s willing to admit, that somewhere deep down, he _likes_ the idea of Sam and Bucky together. The image of Bucky on his knees being fed Sam’s long cock floats into his mind, unbidden, and it’s not his fault at all if he finds himself with a soapy hand fisted around himself in response.

 _Fuck_. Bucky’s right.

What in damnation’s name is this even about? Theoretically, he’s been over Sam for years. Theoretically, he never really let Sam in far enough for there to be anything to get over.

He knows Bucky was half-kidding about bringing Sam into their bed at first. But the more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea — so long as he’s still in control of what happens. He turns that thought over in his mind too. Sam and he never got kinky — that’s always been something he kept for Buck — but he doesn’t think Sam would flip out about the idea.

He turns a few other images over in his head, various ways he and Sam could double-team Bucky, how prettily Bucky would beg — and it’s not long at all before he’s painting the shower wall white, one hand splayed against the glass, panting as he strokes himself through it.

When he makes his way back to their bedroom, Bucky is gone, and there’s a text on his phone informing him he’s headed to the gym downstairs. He texts back a thumbs up — he’s getting better at emoji use — and then pauses, thinking. He texts, _So, if I invited Sam to dinner and maybe more, would that be weird?_

He throws the phone down on the bed as he gets dressed, knowing there’s a good chance Bucky was mid-workout and wouldn’t respond for a while, but there’s a quiet ‘ding’ before he’s even got his boxer briefs all the way on. When he looks, it’s just three identical emoji: the blushing one with the huge eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. Steve smirks, and texts back, _should I make you ask him?_ And gets back _oh god no_. Steve laughs out loud to that one and goes to track down Sam.

He finds him in the common area, chowing down on some kind of pastry. Steve raises an eyebrow at that and Sam shrugs at him. Steve sits down opposite him, tugs the thighs of his pants up as he does.

“Hey, Sam,” says Steve. “We gotta talk.” He looks around. Hawkeye and Nat are halfway across the room, talking over some piece of tech. They’re not really in earshot, even if Nat has preternatural hearing some days. “About yesterday.”

“Oh, no,” says Sam. “You do not get to lay this at my door!”

“Huh?” Steve says.

“No way. Look, man, I know what he is to you. I was halfway to lovin’ you and even then I knew he’d always come first. And then he showed up and you two were just on again like ain’t no time passed. I was graceful. I bowed out.”

“You —”

“No, let me talk. I might not have been as nice to him to start with as you would have liked but let’s be fair. You asked me to let up and I did. You don’t get to waltz in now and complain that we got to be too tight.”

“Sam, stop,” Steve hisses. Nat turns to them, eyes Steve, raises an eyebrow. He shakes his head at her, almost imperceptible and she stands down, turns her attention back to Clint, but her loose stance is the one that’s ready when needed.

“What?” Sam demands, cranky, still on a roll.

“That was _not_ what I was going to say.”

“No?”

“No,” says Steve, voice low, confiding now. “I was going to ask you whether you wanted to come to bed with us.”

Sam opens his mouth and closes it again. His hand does some kind of odd fluttery movement and then his mouth opens again. He takes half a step forward, seems to think better of it, closes his mouth again. He looks around, and then looks at the security camera, at Nat and Clint, and then back at Steve.

“Not. Funny,” he says, finally.

“Not intended to be,” says Steve, softly.

“What the hell, Steve?”

“I’ll admit, I was going to ask you to dinner first…” Steve laughs. “But you kind of pushed me into admitting my ulterior motive.”

“You seriously…” begins Sam, and then he closes his mouth again.

“Come to dinner. Let’s start there. And then, let’s — talk.”

“And Bucky’s cool with this?” sputters Sam.

Steve shrugs. “It was kinda sorta his idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My city's in lockdown, and it's been a really hard day. So of course I distracted myself by finishing off the second chapter of this story. Thanks again to hanitrash for beta reading and to my bestie upsidedownertron for cheerleading. I've made changes since either of them read it and any remaining errors are 100% mine. Hope you enjoy!

Bucky’s changed his shirt easily five times before Steve finally puts a gentle hand on his bicep and tells him the red henley looks amazing, and to stop worrying. Steve wraps his arms around Bucky from behind, looking over his shoulder into the mirror — Steve’s so much taller than he used to be, and that extra bulk means Bucky always feels weirdly outsized by the man.

Bucky meets Steve’s gaze in the mirror, then lowers his eyes.

“C’mon,” says Steve. “You set the table, I’ll get the food. Sam’ll be here any second.”

When Sam arrives less than 10 minutes later, he looks antsy too. Bucky finds himself wishing there was a coat to take or some other obvious social convention that would make it easier, and then kicks himself when Steve calmly offers Sam a drink, gets him a beer.

Dinner goes well enough — Steve’s cooked a pasta dish that reminds Bucky of the old days in the neighbourhood when they saved up their nickels and ate at Nonni’s down in Little Italy. The conversation is a little stilted but mostly okay, until Bucky gets up to clear their plates, and Steve suggests they move into the living room while he gets the three of them another round of beers. Once they’re all settled — Steve and Bucky closer to each other, Sam on the other side of the L on his own — Sam clears his throat.

“So,” he says. “This is… awkward. How are we playing this?”

Bucky chugs half his bottle for fear of saying the wrong thing and ruining everything. Honestly, he’s so grateful Sam had the courage to start this conversation, but Steve has to be the one to answer him. He looks over at Steve and hopes that’s as obvious to Steve as it is to Bucky.

Steve’s looking at Sam with a warm smile on his face.

“I’m in charge,” he says to Sam, and then he glances at Bucky, appraisingly, makes sure he’s looking back. “Bucky’s mine.” Bucky blushes, hot, a pulse going straight to his groin having that said so directly, in front of Sam. Steve looks back to Sam. “I’m just sharing him with you, okay?”

“Sure,” says Sam, casual, rubbing one hand across his thigh.

“If I tell you stop, you stop, got that?”

“Loud and clear,” says Sam, and fuck if it’s not one of the hottest things ever, having these men negotiate who’s allowed to touch him without him contributing at all. Bucky adjusts himself in his pants.

“Any questions?” asks Steve.

Sam thinks for a moment, swallows beer from his bottle. “He got your magical immunity to everything too, or we gonna need something?”

Steve smiles, a little feral. “You’re not going to need anything on account of us, unless it’s for the mess. But, uh, Bucky likes getting messy, don’t you, sweetheart?” 

Bucky can’t help but squirm at that one, which of course makes him swallow a whimper. Steve hears it, of course, and nods at him, fully aware of the come and more that’s still inside Bucky from this afternoon’s adventures.

“Why don’t you go show Sam what you’ve been wanting to do all night, babe?” says Steve, offhand, like it’s not going to drive him wild. Bucky looks over at him to check in, and Steve nods. Then Bucky gets up and walks over to Sam, straddles his lap, metal hand on one shoulder, flesh hand wrapped behind Sam’s head, as he leans forward and kisses him, slow.

He’s barely even started when he can hear Steve growling behind him, watching them. Sam’s hands flutter next to him on the sofa, wanting to touch, not sure if he can. He breaks the kiss and looks over Bucky’s shoulder at Steve, clearly anxious.

Bucky takes a deep breath, realising he has to be the one to say this bit, aroused and embarrassed at admitting it. “Hey,” he says, getting Sam’s attention again. The heat in his eyes when he turns back to him is something to behold, and Bucky grinds down on his lap before he can stop himself. Sam’s breath catches. Bucky makes himself still and climbs off Sam’s lap — this is important.

“I, uh. Don’t know what Steve told you already, so,” Bucky begins, sitting back down next to him. Sam shrugs, motions for him to continue. So, great, not much, huh? He gets it all out in a rush, before he can second-guess himself. “We’re kinky as fuck and he’s going to be rough with me but I want you to know, I want it, okay? I always was good at doing what I’m told, you understand? It turns me on. You okay with that?”

Sam smiles. “Sure, sugar. You know we were together? So I trust him. I figured that you were fine with this but it’s good to hear you say it yourself.”

“More than fine,” murmurs Bucky. “You’re hot, I — _want_ you.” He reaches out to Sam, runs two fingers up the seam of his pants, looks into his eyes as he licks his lips. “Ever since he put the idea in my head.” Sam’s hands are now gripping his own thighs hard. Bucky looks back at Steve, at his straining cock, the entire line of his body thrumming towards the pair of them. Bucky wills Steve to read his mind, see how much he loves him for this, and he feels like he can see that all-encompassing love reflected right back at him in open blue eyes.

Then Steve straightens up, very deliberately palms the bulge in his pants, and narrows his eyes at Bucky.

“Get on your knees for me, Bucky, and take him out. Show him what a good little cocksucker you are.”

Sam and Bucky both breathe in sharply at the same time, then Bucky slides off the sofa to his knees in front of Sam. Sam spreads his legs apart to make room for Bucky, as he fumbles to unbutton and unzip him, reaches into his boxer briefs with his metal hand, using his other hand to pull the soft material down and tuck it underneath his balls. His mouth waters, looking at that thick, uncut meat, stiffening in his hand, the head starting to peek out. He’s hungry for it.

He leans forward, mouth slightly open, drawn inexorably towards Sam’s dick. A bead of pre-cum appears at the tip, and Bucky’s tongue snakes out, licks it down, almost without him deciding to. Sam’s hand twitches towards him. Bucky swallows Sam down to the root, throat convulsing around him, lets himself drool a little and slides wetly back up. Sam’s fingers find their way into Bucky’s hair, twist in, start to pull just the way Bucky likes it, and he hears Steve’s rough voice bark out, “Hands off,” low and sharp.

Sam’s hand leaves Bucky’s hair so fast, it gives him whiplash. Bucky slurps Sam back in, and bobs up and down on that gorgeous cock, revels in the way it fills his mouth, hits the back of his throat. He feels more than sees Steve striding over to them, Steve’s hand on the nape of his neck, fingers threaded into his hair, half expects him to pull Bucky off Sam but instead he pushes him down, deeper, until he has to swallow or gag, and he hears soft, wet sounds above him, looks up to see Steve leaning down and kissing Sam, Sam’s head arched back a little under him, gasping into the kiss.

Bucky moans, the vibrations around Sam making him shudder. Sam pulls back from Steve, a look of astonishment on his face.

“Jesus Christ, man,” he says. “Where have you been hiding him?”

Steve smirks. “You can see why I’ve kept him to myself, now, right?”

And there on his knees between them, mouth still full, Bucky flushes with pride.

Steve leans in again, kisses Sam sweetly. “Mmm,” he says. “Been far too long, Sam.” He looks down at Bucky, and Bucky meets his eyes. “You have the best ideas, sweetheart.” Bucky hums in agreement and Sam groans again at the sensation.

“I ain’t sure if I can last much longer if he keeps this up, Steve. I’m guessing he’s got your damn refractory period too?”

Steve chuckles. “Something like that. Okay, Buck. Up you get. Clothes off for us.”

He pulls off Sam’s dick with a wet pop, and smoothly rises to his feet, takes a step back so he’s not right in their faces — there’ll be time to be a brat later if he needs to. He crosses his wrists over each other and grasps the opposite corners of the red top's hem, pulls it over his head in one easy move, the lines of his abs and pecs revealed. He flings it towards the sofa behind them, then reaches down and unbuckles his belt, flicks the top button of his jeans open, slides his zip down and shoves the pants down to his ankles. With one hand behind him, he takes off each of his loafers and then tugs the jeans off entirely. He kicks the shoes to the side, throws the jeans after the henley.

He stands there, in his navy blue boxer briefs, then folds his hands at the small of his back, settling into parade rest. Sam eyes him appreciatively, but Steve frowns at him.

“You forgetting something, kid?”

Bucky flushes again, but this time with embarrassment. He squirms and feels the heft inside of him shift. 

“No, Steve,” he mutters, and bends to take his briefs off too, his hard cock springing up and bouncing a little as he does.

“Do a little turn for us, darlin’,” says Steve, and there’s a teasing lilt in his voice. Bucky drops his head a little but does as he’s told, burning, turned on at Steve showing him off like this. He can feel himself starting to sink, heavy.

Sam lets out a low whistle as Bucky faces away from him.

“What the _fuck_ is that?” he exclaims.

“Oh that?” says Steve, all innocence. “That’s my plug. He’s been plugged up all through dinner. I filled him up just before you arrived to make sure he remembers whose hole that is.”

God, hearing that makes Bucky feel zoned out. “S’your hole, Steve,” he says, swaying slightly, as he turns to face them again.

Steve steps up to Bucky, runs a finger down that smooth chest, proprietary. 

“Yeah, baby,” he croons. “You’re damn right it is. But that means it’s mine to give away too, right?”

The hole in question clenches on the plug, and Bucky’s cock jerks upwards.

“Yes, Steve,” he says.

Steve leans in and captures Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky melts into it, like he always does.

Steve looks over his shoulder, and smiles. “Ready to move this to the bedroom, Sam?”

“Lead the way, Cap.” Sam shucks his shirt, and throws it on top of Bucky’s clothes, hesitates for a moment then strips his pants off rather than bothering to zip himself up. Bucky glances over, his first real look at Sam. He’s shorter than Bucky is, but goddamn if his shoulders aren’t twice as wide. His arms are just — Bucky breathes in, slow and deep. There’s something mesmerising about the little moue of Sam’s mouth, and the twinkle in his eye as he sees Bucky watching.

Steve crowds up behind Bucky and guides him to the bedroom. Sam follows behind them.

When they get there, Steve gestures Bucky up onto the bed, manhandles him onto all fours, ass facing the other men. His balls and cock hang thick beneath him and he feels exposed, on display.

Steve nudges his legs further apart, and he feels his meaty hands press onto his butt cheeks, spreading them, then the plug pushes in a little deeper. Bucky breathes in again, thinks about Sam watching this behind him. He has no fucking idea how he’s going to survive tonight. What was he actually thinking?

The edge of the plug pulls against his rim and he groans, low, hangs his head. His hair falls into his eyes. Steve pushes the plug in again and then it’s pulling, stretching him again, the pressure almost a burn unless he bears down, pushes a little, and so he does, hot with it as the plug slides out of him, lube and come dripping out of him in its trail. Behind him, he hears Sam’s breath catch. 

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable there, Sam?” Bucky hears, followed by the soft sounds of kisses again, and then Sam climbing on the end of the bed, settling down. He hears rustling — Steve removing his clothes. He stays on all fours, on display, naked, waiting. His dick throbs and his nipples are pebbled. He breathes in, and out. More warm lube trickles onto his hole, and then he feels fingers pushing it in, checking the stretch, and hears a hum of satisfaction from Steve.

He sees Steve come into view, knees and thighs, and then there's a finger under his chin, lifting his head up. As he raises his head, he sees Steve’s massive boner jutting out from him, and Bucky wants that in him so badly.

“How you doing, Bucky boy?” Steve asks, kind, and soft.

“’M good,” says Bucky. “Floaty.”

“That’s my good boy,” says Steve. “Why’n’t you turn around, so Sam can see your face, baby? And then lift yourself up and show him how much you love taking my cock.”

There’s a bitten-off sound that Bucky thinks might have come from him. He nods, and turns on all fours, presenting his ass to Steve, basically. He makes eye contact with Sam and blushes fiercely. Sam is sitting on the other end of the bed, lazily fisting his thick cock, his eyes hooded.

Bucky pushes himself up onto his knees with his hands, puts both palms on his spread thighs, shuffles back between Steve’s legs and then raises himself up, positioning himself wantonly. _Oh, god, he wants this so badly_ , feels it like an ache in him _._ He lowers himself. The blunt head of Steve’s cock slides right into his open hole, slippery and so ready. He moans helplessly. He thinks about how he must look to Sam — impaling himself on Steve’s huge dick, his legs spread, his chest flushed, his mouth open with want. It feels so good, though, being filled, the hot thrust of Steve inside him, that he can’t stop. He lifts and lowers himself again, eyes falling closed.

“Fuck, that’s a beautiful sight,” says Sam.

“He takes it like a champ, doesn’t he?” says Steve.

“Like he was made for it.”

“You should fuck his mouth again, Sam. Go on, he can take it.”

“Yeah?” Sam rises easily onto his knees, moves forward and Bucky feels Steve’s hand between his shoulder blades, pushing him down again. He transfers his hands from his own thighs to Sam’s smooth brown skin, closes his eyes, lets spit pool in his mouth and opens his lips when the warm, damp flesh touches them. Steve thrusts hard into him from behind and he’s shoved forward onto Sam’s shaft, gags a little but sucks in as he pulls back. “Shit, can I… I mean…” stammers Sam.

“Yeah, he likes having his hair pulled. I’m too far away, you’re gonna have to be my hands as well, this time, Sam.”

Bucky moans low and deep as Sam’s fingers find their way into his hair and then it’s all he can do to hold on for the ride, hammered from both ends by these two solidly built men. The air fills with Steve and Sam’s grunts and the wet slap of flesh on flesh. It’s everything Bucky can do to remember not to squeeze too hard with his metal hand, to remember that’s not Steve’s thigh under it. Being spitroasted suddenly makes this all very real — there are definitely _two_ completely independent dicks involved, both of them sizeable and thrusting into him, filling his mouth and asshole over and over. Steve and Sam have a rhythm going now, Sam hitting the back of his throat in time with Steve nailing his prostate. It feels so fucking good, like he’s where he belongs, and hearing Steve praising him just makes it better, the litany of how good he is for taking it. Steve’s palm falls hard onto his butt and the added sting makes him clench, and they both moan, which of course makes Sam moan and thrust deeper. It’s a beautiful cycle. He loses himself in the sensations, warm and sparkling.

“Fuck, man, I’m so close,” groans Sam. “Fuck, Steve, can I… in his mouth, can I?”

“Well, Sam, I have other plans, so pull off, Bucky. Right now!” Steve snaps, when it takes Bucky a moment to clue into the change of pace. Sam groans again, as his cock leaves Bucky’s mouth, a trail of spittle connecting them for a moment. Sam pets at Bucky’s hair for a moment, his hand moving of its own volition.

Steve is still thrusting into Bucky, but it’s gone lazy now, slow.

“So, Sam. I’ve decided I’m going to let you fuck Bucky’s hole after all…”

“You — what?” sputter Sam and the same time as Bucky just sputters.

“… but only while I’m also in here.”

Bucky’s mind stutters to a halt. _He’s — this is — oh fuck —_ and the underlying ever-so-slight humiliation of being shared like this, with no say in it, no say in the specifics, floods back again, blood rushing into his cock even more, the thought of _another_ cock in there, of being split apart. He gasps, no air, chest tight, and Steve pushes back into him again, slow roll of his hips.

“I don’t think that’s — possible,” says Sam. “Maybe with two guys with smaller dicks, man, but…”

“You’re forgetting he’s a supersoldier, Sam. We can’t break him. It might feel like it there for a minute or two. But let’s ask Bucky. What do you reckon, lover, you want both of our big cocks in your hole at the same time?”

Bucky drops his head and just keens for a moment. The only thing worse ( _better_ , whispers his traitorous cock) than having what he wants done to him without being consulted is being made to ask for what he wants.

“I thought so,” says Steve, knowing Bucky far too well. “But I think Sam needs to hear you say it out loud. Go on, boy. Beg for it. Beg _Sam_ for it.” 

And Bucky, still helplessly rising and falling on Steve’s cock, looks Sam in the eye and brokenly says just one word. “Please.”

Steve’s hand falls onto his ass, hard, and Bucky grunts. “I think you can do better than that, Bucky. Come on.”

Bucky wants to twist around and glare at Steve, but he wants to be fucked within an inch of his life more. So he takes a deep breath, and grits out, “Please, Sam, will you fuck me? At the — at the same time — _fuck.”_ Another slap, hard on the other cheek. “At the same time as Steve,” he says in a rush.

“Like I could say no to an invitation like that,” says Sam.

“Just start with a finger,” says Steve. “Come over here and just feel his rim.” 

Steve pulls Bucky up, his back to Steve’s chest, and lifts his legs so Sam can get in there. Bucky feels like he’s being held up for inspection and squirms in Steve’s hold, so aroused. Sam’s finger circles where Steve’s cock is stretching him so wide already. The look on Sam’s face is reverent, almost.

“I still don’t know how this is going to work, Steve, but I’m in.”

Steve reaches to the side and tosses Sam the lube. “You’ll need more of this, that’s for sure.”

Sam squirts lube liberally onto his fingers, coats Bucky’s ring.

“Lay your finger down alongside my cock,” says Steve, “on the next stroke out, and keep it there.”

On the next stroke in, Bucky can feel the finger slip into him, beside Steve’s cock, stretching him wider still.

“Ohhhh fuck,” he moans.

“ _Jesus,”_ says Sam.

“Uh huh,” says Steve.

“Have you — done this before?” asks Sam, bewildered. Bucky was starting to wonder the same thing.

Steve chuckles. “Oh no. I did, uh, research, this morning. I told you I had a plan.”

Bucky fucks himself up and down on Steve’s cock and Sam’s finger, whining every so often. Steve’s hand smooths over his hip, gentling him. Bucky twists on the intrusion, grinds on it. He wants more but he’s already taking so much.

Sam’s watching him closely, panting a little, their eyes locked together. His dick is still very much at attention, dripping. Bucky’s own cock is swaying as he fucks, stiff, straining, purple at the head. Bucky feels himself relax a little, opens his mouth to say something, some bratty come-back, but Sam sees it, and suddenly there are two fingers. Bucky cries out, almost tries to get away, but Steve holds him firmly in place, soothes him.

“Oh no, Bucky, you ain’t going nowhere. Your hole belongs to me, remember? So what are you gonna do, sweetheart?”

“Take what you give me, Steve!” Bucky cries out. He’s so full. 

Steve’s arm comes up across Bucky’s chest, holding him back firmly. “That’s right, sweetheart.” Steve moves the hand cupping Bucky’s pecs, stroking gently, but never letting up the pressure holding Bucky back. One of Steve’s nails starts to play idly with Bucky’s nipple, up, down, little circles, and then he pinches, hard, chuckles as Bucky jerks in his grip. Steve moves his hand up to wrap around Bucky’s throat, and Bucky’s breath catches.

“Who do you belong to, Buck?”

“You, Steve,” breathes Bucky. “I belong to you.” He feels the truth of that settle into him and he’s calmer. Centred. He’s still scared he won’t be able to take it — two cocks at once, _Jesus_ — but he wants to please Steve more, and he relaxes around Sam’s fingers.

Sam’s eyes meet his, wide, astounded, and he feels so vulnerable, so open, in front of him like this. He wants to reassure Sam, let him know he really does want this, no matter what that little freak out might have looked like. He remembers he has a voice, and a body, finds words somewhere within him. He reaches out a hand to Sam, strokes metal fingers along his cheek. “Will you fuck me now, Sam? Please?”

Sam smiles and gently withdraws his fingers. “You definitely don’t need to ask me twice,” he says.

Steve lifts Bucky up, leans him back. Sam kneewalks closer, adds more lube, and angles his dick down, places it next to Steve’s, into the gap where his fingers just were, and Bucky still isn’t sure he can do this but it’s almost like he’s not entirely in his body, like he’s watching from afar. Sam’s cock slides in and it feels like Bucky is split in half, the stretch so much more than those two extra fingers, and his rim burns a little. His mind whites out, overwhelmed, no words, just electric sparks across his entire surface. He so, so full. So full. He reaches out both hands and finds Sam’s shoulders, looks at him stunned.

Steve draws back, and the drag on Bucky’s walls and rim are even more intense, sensation on top of sensation. 

“Holy shit, Steve,” says Sam. “I can feel your cock, I’m fucking your cock _inside Bucky_.”

Bucky sags a little in their arms, lying almost all the way back on Steve, Sam leaning over him, and the two men take turns pistoning in and out of him. The sensations never stop — there’s constant pressure on his prostate, his rim, deep inside him, this constant sense of _fullness_ and _stretch_ and the edge of _too much_. He is entirely his asshole and the feelings in it — no other part of his body exists. Even his dick has gone limp, the blood supply cut off by the two massive cocks pressing against it over and over. He’s flying on endorphins, soaring towards the sun.

He’s going to come. It’s going to be _magnificent_. 

Some little voice in his brain remembers the drill, and without really being aware of it, he asks permission, like he’s supposed to.

“Such a good boy, Bucky, asking even when you’re half out of your mind. But there’s two of us here, hey? Think you better ask Sam as well.”

Oh _god_. Bucky almost comes just from that thought. That’s so much more intense. Asking Steve is second nature, but asking _Sam?_

“Go on, babe,” says Sam. “Wanna hear you ask me.”

Bucky looks away, warm all over. Sam gently strokes his cheek, and he looks back. Sam pumps in and out of him again.

“Look at me while you ask, yeah?” Sam says, like he knows how much Bucky needs that hot feeling.

“Please, Sam, can I come… _on your cocks_ , ohhhhh _god_.” It’s so hard to hold back, it’s so hard, he _can’t_ , he can’t.

“Of course you can come, sweetheart,” says Sam, and leans down to kiss him, without thinking. There’s a growl from behind Bucky, possessive as fuck. Sam freezes and Bucky’s ass seizes hard around both of them. The two men groan in unison.

“Ah, fuck it,” says Steve, with a grin. “Fine, kiss him. And you heard the man, Bucky,” says Steve, “Come for us.” 

Sam’s lips meet Bucky’s, passionate, deep, while he speeds up his thrusts, pumping into him.

Hole clenching, tongue in Sam’s mouth, Steve sucking a bite into his neck, Bucky comes harder than he thinks he ever has — can practically see the fireworks behind his own eyelids, every nerve alight, and then he’s panting, heaving breaths into his burning lungs.

Sam draws back from the kiss, feels between them and looks at him a little oddly. “Did you just come dry?” he asks. “Fuck, that was hot.”

“We’re probably cutting off his circulation,” laughs Steve. “If he wants to do that for real, he’s gonna have to lift up higher each time. You okay to keep going, Sam? I have to keep reminding myself that you’re only human.”

“Hey!” Sam exclaims. “I can do anything you can do.”

“Just slower,” smirks Steve, “Yeah, I know. So?”

“I’ve almost come like 20 times already. But I’m cool, man. Happy to keep taking it to the edge.”

Steve sits back up more so Bucky can fuck himself on both cocks at once. It feels amazing, almost oversensitive though, so he’s lackadaisical about the whole thing, just enjoying himself. 

“I think you need an incentive, sweetheart,” says Steve. His hand moves to Bucky’s throat again. Mmm, Bucky loves that pressure, feels safe and held.

“Deep breath for me,” Steve says, and Bucky’s eyes widen. He knows what’s coming, craves it. Breathes in. Locks eyes with Sam. 

“And,” Steve adds, “you can come anytime you like.”

Steve’s hand tightens around Bucky’s airway. The other hand comes up to play with his nipples, pinches, twists, flicks. Bucky’s squirming, endorphins pinging around his brain, both of those thick cocks deep inside him. 

Bucky reaches back, puts his hands back on the tops of Steve’s thighs and levers himself up, for real this time, frantically fucking himself up and down on their cocks. Once he goes up high enough on each stroke, sure enough, his cock starts taking an interest in proceedings again.

Bucky’s vision starts to go fuzzy, everything in soft focus, and floaty. He feels the intensity build, in his balls, inside him where he’s stretched wider than he’s ever been before. He goes to ask for permission, finds he can’t get enough air to speak, and that as much as anything is what tips him over. He starts to come, clawing at Steve’s thighs, clenching hard, spasms through every muscle in his body. Steve lets up with his hand, Bucky gasps in air and spurts all over Sam’s stomach, pulse after pulse, white ropes of heat. Sam shudders, slams his mouth onto Bucky’s and then pulls back just far enough to mutter, “Oh, fuck, man, _ohhhhh fuck…”_ and then he’s coming inside Bucky, pulsing against Steve’s cock.

Steve kisses the side of Bucky’s neck again, noses up under his ear. “You’re a goddamned marvel, Bucky,” he whispers. He pulls out, and Sam’s dick falls out too, Sam sitting back, a bit dazed, as Steve spins Bucky around, kneels up in front of him and jerks himself frantically.

“Open up, Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky does, tongue out slightly. Steve comes all over his face, thick wet stripes hitting his cheek, his chin before landing the bulk of it squarely in his mouth. Bucky swallows and then licks at his cheek, trying to get more of it.

“Holy shit,” says Sam. “Holy shit.”

“What do you say, Bucky boy?” asks Steve.

Bucky struggles to think for a moment. He’s loopy, and his entire body feels like it’s buzzing gently. Finally, he raises an eyebrow. 

“Thank you for my present, Steve,” he says, a little sing-song and out-of-it.

“You cheeky kid,” says Steve, laughing.

“Wait, is he talking about the come on his face, or what?” says Sam.

“He’s talking about you, Sam. And getting his ass reamed five ways from Sunday.”

“Well, okay then,” laughs Sam. “You’re welcome, I guess?”

Bucky curls up, languid and feline in the middle of the bed, and licks his lips again. “I feel fucking incredible,” he says. “Sleep now.”

“Not till I’ve wiped you down, kid,” says Steve. “And hydration.”

“Hurry back then,” yawns Bucky.

Steve gets three warm washcloths from the en suite, and a glass of water for Bucky. He tosses one washcloth to Sam, and helps Bucky sit up to drink, checking he really is okay, then carefully wipes Bucky down before taking care of himself.

By the time Steve’s finished, Bucky’s fast asleep.

* * *

When Bucky wakes up, he’s snuggled warm against a solid body, which isn’t unusual. When he opens his eyes and the eyes looking back at him are warm and brown, that’s a bit more surprising. He smiles though, feeling the gentle aches of a good time through his muscles as he preens and stretches a little like a cat. He leans forward and kisses Sam, slow and soft.

“On your left,” he hears, amused, from over Sam’s other side.

Sam smirks into the kiss with Bucky, and turns over, wraps a hand into Steve’s hair. Bucky props himself up on one elbow to watch Sam and Steve kiss, lazy, relaxed, nowhere else to be.

 _Yeah_ , he thinks to himself. _This is, without a sliver of a doubt, the best timeline._ He wouldn’t want it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed the story, and you feel like leaving a comment, you'll cheer me up immensely...
> 
> And I just want to take a moment to acknowledge that no matter how hard I feel like I have it as an isolated queer single parent, it's worse right now for First Nations folks, Black folks and trans folks. If you have the means to donate to an organisation providing material assistance to folks right now, please do.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos give me life... I'm on tumblr at [mordwen](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mordwen) if you want to come chat.
> 
> Oh, and I guess if you're looking for other things I've written, they're mostly under my [phoenix_rose pseud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordwen/pseuds/phoenix_rose)...


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